


Fugitive Wolf

by thehappyfangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Fugitive (1993)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Gen, M/M, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehappyfangirl/pseuds/thehappyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU fusion of The Fugitive for the Reel Wolves ficathon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fugitive Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogated. Convicted. Escaped.

Derek sat in the living room, the hot-copper scent of Laura's blood still in his nose and on his hands. They hadn't taken her body out yet when the two detectives let him put on a coat and led him out to a squad car, where he could just hear the reporter's low voice.

"...standing outside the home of Doctor Derek Hale, a were and a respected surgeon at Chicago Memorial Hospital. Details are sketchy at this hour but we understand that Doctor Hale's sister Laura, also a were, was found murdered in their home, and detectives are bringing Doctor Hale out now…"

He could still hear the reporter when the door shut.  "We know that she apparently made a 9-1-1 call to the police indicating that there was an intruder in the house. We know that Doctor Hale and his sister were at a fund-raiser earlier this evening for the Children's Research Fund--"

He recalled the earlier hours with shocking clarity, he and Laura mingling with their medical colleagues, both of them attracting attention due to their were-status and the acclaim they'd both earned coming from a long family line of physicians both were and human. They'd begged off early after Laura had accepted her award and after he'd gotten his car back from a friend in need; they'd wanted to get away from the smells of over-cologned glad-handers and catch the last half of the Bulls game, but he'd been called into emergency surgery.

 _I'll tape it, baby bro_ , she'd teased him.  _I'll wait up for you_.

"Have you or your sister been getting any kind of threats at work, Doc? I mean, being a were in the medical field's gotta come with some flack, right?"  

He shook his head. "No." He could smell the sweat under the detective's false affability.

"And the fight you said with the red-eyed guy...was that upstairs or downstairs?"

Derek clenched his teeth to keep from snarling and pulled at his beard. "Upstairs."

"Red eyes and all...that's another were, isn't it? Is that a wolf, or something else?"

Derek sighed. "It's a wolf. An Alpha."

"That fund-raiser...it was to honor your sister, wasn't it? I mean, she won an award and everything." The other detective cut in, lip curled with thinly-veiled contempt.

Affable didn't let him answer. "Those scratches on your neck, doc...how come they haven't healed?"

Derek stared at a spot on the wall, not ready to meet either of their gazes. "Laura scratched me when I tried to move her. She's...she was an Alpha too."

"Was that before or after your fight with this...other Alpha?" Affable again.

Derek gripped the table hard. "After."

"You two got a big life insurance payoff when you were younger, didn't you?" Contempt consulted his folder. "After the fire."

"We were both compensated for the loss, yes."

"Who else gets that money, if one of you dies?"

Derek glared at Affable, connecting the dots through his rising rage. "I do."

"You'll be sitting on a pretty big pile of money after this," Contempt said. "I mean, now you won't have to split the money or the credit with her."

Derek looked at both of them now, challenging them even as Affable let his hand drop towards his gun and Contempt just stared back at him. "Are you saying that I killed my sister? That I crushed her skull and ripped...how  _dare_  you!" He felt his eyes flash hot and he couldn't help the growl in his chest. "When I got home there was another were in the house. I fought with him, and he...he killed…"

The howl welled up in his chest and he let it come, the grief for Laura and the rage that they thought he did it in some jealous fit...the jolt of the cattle prod sent him to the floor, and then all he could do was cry for her as they restrained him with wolfsbane-infused straps. "He took _everything_  from me," he gasped as he felt the sting of the tranquilizer and the darkness closed in.

The trial itself was a formality. The evidence against him was circumstantial but strong enough to tip the eyes of the jury. His were-status, even as a doctor, and the vicious nature of Laura's death was clear enough. Jealousy was rampant in were relationships, especially in families, and to people already barely tolerating the were population it was just another incident of animal viciousness among weres.

The 9-1-1 call was the worst. The animal snarls and her screaming his name...he'd heard her from outside and tried to get in before--

He put his face in his hands when he heard the blow to her head, and whined low in his throat when he heard her say his name one last time.

_In light of the evidence...the brutality of the crime...die by lethal injection._

His pack was gone, the last of his family was dead. His own lawyer made a pretense of believing him despite his vigorous defense. He could afford to appeal, but a life in a locked hecatolite vault was something no were could handle for longer than it would take to kill him.

He barely noticed when he was led out of his cell to the bus that would take him to the prison.  The other weres with him gruffed and growled as they got onto the bus, but stayed quiet as the ride began.

They were twenty miles out from the prison when he heard the heartbeats quicken. He only had a second to wonder what was going on before he saw the one in front, the scrawny werecoyote, start to choke and gag and the others shout for someone to get in here, someone help him, he was gonna die…

It all happened so fast, and he'd just opened his mouth to shout a warning when the hapless guard got close enough for Tate to sink his fangs into his shoulder. A wolfsbane-laced shotgun blast laid Tate's chest open, but the others quickly flung themselves at both guards. The next shot killed the driver and then they were rolling, rolling down the hill.

Derek shook off the bumps and bruises when they finally stopped to see all but one of the others unconscious (Lahey, another wolf) and the gun-wielding guard shouting his name.  "You're a doctor, do something!"

"Unlock me!" He had to shout it again before the guard threw him the keys and let him unlock his hands to help him. He lay his hands on the guard's face and took some of his pain; he was hurt badly, and paralyzed from the other prisoner's venom-coated claws, but if he got prompt attention he'd pull through with just a nasty scar--

The train's horn made them all freeze, and Derek winced as the oncoming light stung his eyes.

"Help me get him out!" he shouted to the guard, but all he saw was his back as he abandoned his comrade  _and_  all of them to the train. He heard a grunt behind him and called to the now-recovered Lahey.

"Hey! Give me a hand with him!"  
  
"Fuck you, Doc!" he snarled, already free of his irons after snagging the keys that must have dropped, and then Lahey was gone too.  
  
He looked at the guard, smelled his fear and confusion, and hoisted him onto his shoulders. "You're gonna be all right."  He lowered him carefully out the window and let him slide on the leaves towards the nearby stream, and the train was nearly on top of him before he was able to jump.  He'd barely gotten his feet under him when he heard the crashing, wrenching sound of the train leaving the tracks, and he lunge-hobbled away as fast as the leg irons would let him go.  He barely made it to the low trestle and cowered as the train crashed down around him, the roar of noise taking him back to the day of the fire and when Laura was able to pull both of them to safety…

He didn't know how long he crouched under the trestle, but when he crawled up the hill away from the wreckage there was a waiting hand to help him up.  _Lahey_.  He still had the keys to the leg irons; he unlocked him, and both of them rested in the heat of the burning train until the adrenaline left them panting and considering their options. Lahey met his eyes with a growl. "Listen. I don't give a shit which way you go, just as long as you don't follow me. You got that?"

Derek nodded and offered a little smile. "You be good, okay?"

Lahey flashed golden eyes at him and ran.  Derek rolled to his feet and winced, only then noticing the wound in his side, the burn of wolfsbane keeping it from healing. _Must have caught the edge of one of the shots_ , he thought, and he kept pressure on it as he headed uphill, in a different direction than Lahey.

He needed to treat this in a hospital before the spread of it reached his heart.

 

* * *

 

Stiles looked at the scene as Scott nosed the car through the police line and to an open space to park. He whistled through his teeth as they all piled out of the car. "Jesus, what a mess."

"Wow, a literal train wreck," Boyd said, and Stiles rolled his eyes and kept walking, knowing the rest of his team would fall in behind him. Scott pointed out the point of impact to Danny, who was already on his tablet marking the satellite photos he'd gathered on the way to the site. Lydia was already herding them towards someone who looked as if they were in charge, and Boyd and Allison were already halfway down to the wreckage and would tell him what he didn't initially notice, both with human senses and were-enhanced.

They followed the TV lights towards the interview that the Sheriff ("Harris" Lydia whispered to him as they reached the cameras) was conducting with the last living guard.

"...train was heading right for us. After I got my partner out, I just made it out myself." The guard huddled in a blanket.

"You're a brave man. You could have both been killed." Harris said to the guard.

"Yeah, but he's my partner. He would have done the same for me."

Stiles lifted his chin to get the Sheriff's attention. "I'm Deputy US Marshal Stiles Stilinski, and I'd like to--"

Harris' genial smile faded quickly at the interruption. "I'll be with you in just a minute," he said, and turned his attention back to the guard. "So, these three are dead, and...what about this one?"

Stiles watched the way the guard hunched deeper in his jacket and hesitate.  "Everything happened so fast, I...nah, I don't think he made it."

Harris turned to Stiles then, all smiles again. "Well, it looks like you've come down here for nothing."

Stiles glanced at the guard again, then back to him. "Well, with all due respect, Sheriff, I'd like to recommend checkpoints on a twenty mile radius at--"

Harris was already shaking his head. "Whoa now, you heard it yourself, the prisoners are all dead. All the checkpoints are going to do is make a lot of folks nervous and flood my office with calls about escaped weres in their backyards."

"Well shit, Sheriff, I'd hate to see that happen, so I guess I'll take over your investigation."  Stiles didn't even bother with intimidation, not with Scott at his shoulder and Lydia already reaching in her bag as Harris blustered about not having the authority.

"Governor of the State of Illinois, United States Marshals Office, Were Division, Fifth District, Northern Illinois."  Lydia offered him the paperwork, and Stiles braced himself for the explosion.

"All right. You want jurisdiction over this mess, you got it."  Harris turned to his scattered men and called them over. "All right boys, gather round here and listen up. We're shutting it down, and Jump Street here is to mop up for us."

Stiles shook his head and turned back to the guard when Boyd came trotting back up the hill with a jingle of leather and chains. "Oh wow, check this out!"  He held the leg irons up to Harris and the increasingly nervous guard.  "Leg irons with no legs in them! How about that...who held the keys, big guy?"

The guard's shoulders were around his ears now. "...I did."

"And where are they now?" Stiles watched him try to hunch even lower into his shock blanket.

"...I dunno."

Lydia arched her brow at him. "Care to revise your statement, sir?" 

"What?"

Stiles leaned in. "Do you want to change your bullshit story?" 

Lydia held the picture of the last prisoner up again without another word, and Stiles watched as the lies crumbled away.  "He mighta got out."

Stiles nodded as the Sheriff tried to bluster again, and pointed for Boyd to rustle up some of the deputies to help get the checkpoints started.  "Listen up, ladies and gentlemen!" he called to the ones that were still there. "Our fugitive has been on the run for ninety minutes! Average foot speed over uneven ground for an uninjured beta werewolf is eight miles an hour. That gives us a radius of twelve miles."

He looked around at the crowd and the cameras. "What I want out of each and every one of you is a hard target search of every gas station, residence, wolf den, bear den, poker den, opium den, and den of iniquity in that area! Checkpoints go up at twenty miles!

"Your fugitive's name is  _Doctor_  Derek Hale. Go get 'im."

**Author's Note:**

> I will definitely be adding more to this in the future - it's too much fun to leave alone! Hope you enjoyed :D


End file.
